


The Ice Cream Circuit

by colish3



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), And Richie Is Willing To Do That For Him, Eddie Kaspbrak Only Shops at Whole Foods, Eddie has a daughter and it's really cute, Ice Cream Trucks, M/M, Organic Snacks, Richie is good with kids, Yes This Did Really Happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colish3/pseuds/colish3
Summary: When I was 6, I saw two ice cream men get in a fist fight at a children’s park. Life inspires art. Reddie Meet Cute.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	The Ice Cream Circuit

As a senior member of the Ice Cream Circuit, Richie knows how dearly it necessitates mastery in competitive fields. It’s costs range from high to unbearable, forcing its members to pay financially, emotionally, and in unicorn band-aids. It's a lot to take. Richie, also a veteran in the comedy circuit, knows this and has mastered working under pressure both in competition for limited work and under threat of poverty—why he took a second job selling ice cream from a cart in the first place. However, not everyone can master their emotions as Richie has. So here Richie is, facing that truth as he rounds the corner to the playground and sees two men cracking under the pressure.

Two ice cream trucks, one having turned off it’s music in a moment of blind rage, the other too caught up in the moment to silence his, come speeding down the way at 35 miles per hour—15 over the speed limit for in front of a children’s park or school zone and physically the fastest the trucks can go. They take up both lanes of the road, left and right, no thought to oncoming traffic. 

Richie parks his cart in amazement. Also, to stand far enough away so that no one sees a third ice cream man in the mix. 

The man in the gray truck, driving on the left side of the road sticks his head out the window. He shouts enraged, “Pull over!” From his truck, comes no music to muffle his scream. 

The other truck responds with no words other than his ice cream jingle. It just stays on the right side of the road. Unfortunately for the man in the white truck, his is older, unable to keep such a dangerous speed for so long. The man, head still out the window (which was wild to Richie, as the window is on the left and the other driver is on the right, but more power to you, man) speeds up. Flooring the pedal, he passed the other truck before pulling in front of him and stopping. 

Music man has two options, stop or go into the left lane, but at that exact moment an innocent driver caught unawares drives towards them at a reasonable speed of 15 miles per hour. As the events unfold he no longer has choice. The calming melody of  "Ice Cream" by Andre Nickatina stops. For once, the park is silent. Silent enough that he can hear the white door slam open as a balding man yells, “Oh, you wanted me to pull over? Well, now I’m pulled the fuck over!”

It only took two accusations of stealing customers passing through mouths before it descended into violence. 

For obvious reasons, this is a problem. Even Richie understands, you can't fight in front of kids, especially not as an ice cream man. The unprofessionalism is astounding. Someone really should break it up. Richi is not only someone, but a 6’2 someone. Howeder, he is also an ice cream man, and a third one entering the fight will exacerbate the situation rather than calm it down. Worse than the violence, he could be associated with an ice cream brawl. Sure, customers seeing him as the hero that broke up a fight, stopping such an awful thing from taking place in front of their children, would be great for his business. But being confused as a part of it? That would be losing his business. 

Instead, Richie turns slightly away, the physical embodiment of Mickey Mouse doing a nonchalant whistle to avoid suspicion. This isn’t to say he isn’t still watching everything unfold from the corner of his eye. He definitely is. Which is how he sees some manlet running in there to break it up, and well fuck, he can’t just let that man go in alone. He’ll get creamed.

Okay, following a man into break is a safe bet; no one will think he’s a part of it. Still, there’s no need to stir up trouble by letting them know he sells ice cream, too. The whole point of this is keeping another guy from getting decked, not to get knocked on his ass instead. He throws his apron onto his cart and runs over. 

When he arrives, trying very hard not to visibly pant from sprinting a 200, the fight is almost over. Thank god. All Richie has to do is hold the smaller guy back, mostly just stand in front of him really. The manlet who got her before him has rangled back the balding ice creamer some, and now Richie can really see how strong he is for a little man—strong and handsome. Throughout the course of his life, Richie has found himself embarrassed on multiple occasions, often in front of very attractive p eople. Today, however, he resolved to keep that streak going.

Much like the artist formerly known as Prince, Mr. Manlet—currently holding back a sweaty and yelling ice cream  man—has undergone a name change and is now known, to Richie, as “The Love of My Life.” He doesn’t know his last name yet, but that’ll change soon enough when it becomes Tozier. Except, Richie realizes there is nothing to keep soon to be Mr. Love of My Life Tozier around once the fight stops. Luckily, he took improv in his brief stint in community college.

Releasing his grip just enough, he turns to the man in his arms and says, “That’s enough, dude. Why are you doing this in front of children?” Richie has found the magic words. Street Fighter ice cream edition finds new drama as the man takes his arm out of Richie’s artfully loosened hand and winds back to punch him. The aim is off, and Richie has to adjust a little to get his face in it’s path, but by the grace of God, it connects. 

Oh that beautiful man must have looked over because from over his shoulder he hears, “Hey, don’t fucking do that. Get back into your trucks, yeah, both of you, before I call Neighborhood 

Watch.”

Don’t get him wrong, Richie doesn’t think Neighborhood Watch is real, but there is something very sexy in a man who can take charge and tell another man what to do. Lost in thought and slight lust, Richie gets jostled a bit as the man in his arms pushes him off to get back in his truck. That’s okay, Richie actually would prefer being the one held instead, especially by the man behind him. 

He turns around, hand held up to his (possibly) bruising cheek and says, “Thanks for the help.”

Mr. Doe Eyes, yet another alias for the handsome man, cocks his head a bit to the side, “I think you were the help on this one, bro.”

For the first time, Richie feels the heat of his gaze upon him. At that moment, Richie makes a pact to himself and all holy beings: he will do anything within his power to keep those eyes on him for all of time. Richie will be in his grave, turned on his side, so that Mr. Doe Eyes can look at him from the adjoined plots. But for now, in this lifetime, Richie has to think fast before he loses this beautiful attention. 

“I don’t know,” Richie starts with a smile before slowly moving into a feigned wince, “I think it was my manly prowess that stopped this.” 

The beautiful, hot, lovely man smiles back “Keep dreaming.”

Obviously, Richie’s wince isn’t noticeably enough. Luckily, he knows stage acting as well as TV acting. He can turn up the volume on faking his pain. He starts to laugh, giving him a “Haha—owww.” There is it, the look Richie was waiting for.

“Are you okay? Let’s get you some ice.” With that, he felt a hand press against his back leading him into the other man's heart, or, more realistically, to a park bench next to all his stuff. Tenderly, he sits Richie down before diving into a small cooler.

“What, do you just keep a cooler and ice pack on you at all times?” Richie asks, charmed beyond belief.

Replying kurtly, he simply says, “Yes.”

“Wait, really?” To be fair, so does Richie, but that's for ice cream selling purposes. Knowing that, he could have simply iced himself, but that would relieve him of the hand he thought was about to be put on his face, and that was a major no go.

Mr. Beautiful, yet another alias, gave him a look. “No, this is for a picnic with my daughter.”

Richie looked around, “Oh shit, is she okay?” He doesn’t see her anywhere.

“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s playing with her aunt.”

“Oh, good.” Richie let in a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Is this what it’s like to be in movies? 

Finally, he finds what he was searching for in the cooler and brings a freeze pack to his face. Gently, he places it on Richie’s face. “Hold this,” he said, and Richie’s hand touched his as he reached up to take it. 

It feels like a fucking 90’s movie where the kids all turn away their heads and cover their eyes for a kiss scene at the end. He could, hypothetically, in another world, lean in. However, this is not a movie; it’s a park with kids playing in it—and also Richie bleeding in it.

Before his staring could get anymore obvious, Mr. not-tall, dark and handsome turned his lips, along with the rest of his head, to the side. “Keep the pack tight to your face to stop the swelling. I’m getting alcohol and cotton swabs.”

“You bring alcohol to a  _ children’s park.” _ Richie says, faking scandal.

“It’s rubbing alcohol, and of course it's a fu- _ lipping _ Children’s Park. What else is there? Adult parks.”

Richie takes a moment to consider. “Hiking trails.” 

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Hiking trails, not parks.”

Fuck. Wait, no, Richies got it. “National Parks!” Yes, adult parks.

The man laughs, “Those especially I bring alcohol to.”

“In case of bear attacks?” Richie asks. 

“In case of splinters.” 

“Different priorities I guess. Personally, when I bring alcohol, it’s to get drunk with a bear.” 

And the man laughs again and puts on a unicorn band-aid. “Okay, all better. I have to get back to my daughter.” And he leaves. No name, no number, no forwarding address.

Here Richie is, stuck on a park bench with nothing to show for it, not even some ice cream. Oh fuck, his cart. Priorities. Okay, order of business: First, go get his cart before some little shits steal itp; second, go online and fill out a “Missed Connections” form on craigslist. 

**Author's Note:**

> well, life imitates art, so will one of my readers please become a ice cream man and bring fist fights in front of children into the new generation. i figure, i need to actually write to be a writer, so i try to update at least one of my 3 fics once a week. stay tuned for eddie's pov next chapter :) & happy pride month


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